Understanding
by Broccoli-xxxx
Summary: Inside the Torchwood team's thoughts, through series 1 2 and CoE. Janto, Towen and Gwen/Rhys, as canon, plus the odd appearance of 'This Plague Between Us' OCs. Please do R&R!
1. Words

_A/N: Well, after finishing This Plague Between Us (and if you haven't read it, please check it out), I felt like trying something new, trying my hand at poetry. It's pretty free-verse, so really I'm just interested in hearing what you think about it, whether I should do more of it, etc. So just send me a review, be honest, it's just something I'm having a play with. It's Rhys POV, regarding Gwen. Enjoy. (:_

* * *

and sometimes it's like  
she's disappeared; faded into another  
time. her hair is windswept, in her eyes  
and her eyes are somewhere else.  
he can hold her  
in his arms  
but he can't hold her  
- protect her -  
from the world; her world, where  
he is her rock, and she is  
broken in two.

bloody gwen. beautiful, brilliant  
bloody gwen. blood of our enemies  
smeared on her face and hands and skin.

sometimes the stench  
of death  
comes off her so strong, his lips tremble  
as they brush  
over hers.  
torchwood took his PC Plod and turned her into  
mrs. smith, knife stuck in her garters.

meeting the team -  
iantojacktoshowen -  
was him understanding. him knowing how  
she got this way.  
there's sadness in all their eyes  
even hers  
and somehow  
that's worse  
than not knowing.  
he knows, in his heart, he was meant to forget;  
that gwen stopped it;  
but sometimes, he wishes he had.

words don't come out right  
or don't come out at all  
when you're the fiancé  
of gwen cooper.  
but when you're the fiancée  
of rhys williams - well,  
words aren't what you need.


	2. Cut Open

_A/N: So I decided this'll be my relaxing little side-thing. Again, it's nothing serious, just interested in what you guys think. (: This one is Tosh POV. Thank you very much, and enjoy.  
_

* * *

he sits at that autopsy table  
for hours at a time.  
messy owen, sarcastic owen,  
sailor-mouth owen, the damn alcoholic.

he's all jokes and fun  
until he gets his hands  
on something fresh  
something to cut up  
and explore.

then - before my eyes - he morphs;  
becomes new; calm, peaceful.  
there's beauty in the mechanism  
the constant routine of MADNESS to  
CALM;  
the professionalism.

i could be waiting on the wrong man.

he likes the feel of flesh on his hands:  
warm, wanting flesh, or cold, dead flesh  
it's all the same.  
it's all a game.

this computer screen sets my eyes alight,  
and i wonder if - if he cut me open -  
he'd find his name on my heart.


	3. Bare Bones

_A/N: Owen POV, now. Spoilers for Exit Wounds, 2.13. Owen/Tosh.  
_

* * *

i could have been somebody.  
i could have had it all.

but this place, and this job,  
and this world  
keeps  
swallowing  
me  
up.

these concrete walls, the grilles  
on the floor. everything;  
eternal. everything.  
it could be the worst existence  
possible.

but

hope springs eternal, as they say;  
when the girl, the blessed girl-  
tosh, i remember -  
tells me i'm breaking her heart.  
We Sort Of Missed Each Other,  
I'm Sorry, i say.

something in my heart says  
She's Dying Too. It Won't Be Long.

and as i fade out  
and watch my skin peel  
bones exposed, bleached white bone,  
i think  
i was somebody. i had it all.

her.


	4. One Day

_A/N: Now, for people who haven't read my post-COE fic 'This Plague Between Us', this one might be slightly redundant. It ties in with the current events of that fic without being too obvious, and is from the POV of one of my OCs, Charlton Harrison. If you don't fancy reading TPBU, skip this and the next poem, as they'll be a bit hit-and-miss, but if you're interested, I do write normal stories, so I'd love for you to have a look. I want to say thanks to the reviewers thus far - Marian Locksley, Gwento-addict, and Orion Lyonesse and dreamingofsunshine who came over from TPBU. (: You guys rock.  
_

* * *

one day  
was all it took  
for his world to get  
so much bigger  
than he ever dreamed.

the interview room is stale.

someone has tidied, he can tell,  
but there is a starched, sterile  
taste in his mouth  
and the two men opposite  
reveal more than they want to let on.

he gets the job, somehow.

the recruitment agency  
brought him out of anonymnity  
and thrust him into a new world  
of toeing the line  
between living and dreaming.

his dreams stop being about blue boxes and strange sirens for a while  
changed into glancing visions of suits and the smell of coffee.

there's a dull ache  
where his place in time used to be.  
and there's butterflies  
where his stomach used to be  
when they look at him  
saying You're Not From Around Here, Are You?

how do they know  
just from looking  
that I was torn from my timeline?  
and how does the welshman  
look at me  
like he can see my soul behind the veneer?

it feels like falling;  
the beginning of the end.  
i don't want it to be,  
but i'm terrified it is.


	5. Fixed

_A/N: Okay, so this is another OC of mine from This Plague Between Us. This is a little background to Daria and her relationship with PC Andy. There will be explanations as to why they have moved so fast, although they may not come for a while, but I promise the storyline will be wrapped up nicely. (: Poems from Torchwood series 1, 2 & 3 will resume after this, I will warn in advance when This Plague Between Us poems are going to be. Enjoy.  
_

* * *

there's blood  
and there's bruises  
but she's not feeling it.

she should be angry;  
violated;  
How Can They Hit A Woman?

but there is noise  
and there is screaming  
and there he is  
all around her.  
andy.

it's like magnetism.

like being a kid again  
playing with the poles  
on those pieces of metal  
amazed at how some repel  
and some  
come together.

he asks Can I Buy You A Drink?  
she holds the cold pint glass  
to her bruised cheek  
beer long gone  
but the warmth it brought remains.

he attracts her  
he is south and she is north  
and he asks Do You Need To See A Doctor?

heh. it's the concern  
that gets her.

after every punch she figured out  
whether anything was amiss.  
the ribs are bruised  
face is a mess

but nothing is broken.  
something is fixed.


	6. Rats

_A/N: I've had a rough week. This is Ianto's POV, before the team learned to listen to him. A lot of vitriol towards Jack in this one. (: I would say it's an extension on what Tosh heard in Ianto's head in 'Greeks Bearing Gifts'. Possible implications for TPBU, but perfectly fine on it's own. Enjoy.  
_

* * *

i could listen to a thousand of your lies  
or a thousand of your truths  
but you would never listen to me.

i'm the coffee-boy. clean-up,  
suit-up, shaven; coffee's ready, steaming away.  
i spilt boiling water on my hands  
this morning  
and didn't feel a thing.

you say  
this is ianto jones.  
he gets us everywhere on time.  
oh, and he looks good in a suit.

that is all you have to say.  
all you ever will say.

i have tried to be friends with you.  
but friends does not work.  
you + me does not equate to 'friends'.  
it never will.  
so i'll tease you just a little  
with someone you can't have.

you + me could = lust.  
or is it love?  
i can't tell these days. maths is not my forte.

it's in the suits, really.  
just a pretty young face behind a suit.  
or do you, captain jack, playboy and conman,  
just get cheap thrills out of heartbreak?

you sucker. you liar.  
you use us all for kicks.  
lock em' up together and watch 'em go mad.  
well not me.  
i'm playing you at your own game.

let's see you go mad for once.


	7. Dulce Et Decorum

_A/N: This is about Jack, on the day he had to kill his grandson and Ianto died. It's pretty grim, but you know me, I am a bit grim. (: It's got Latin phrases in it, they are at the bottom in case you don't know. Basically all about the phrase 'Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori' and how I think Ianto might see it. Could fit in with TPBU, but it's perfectly fine on it's own. Enjoy!  
_

* * *

'dulce et decorum est pro patria mori'*  
that's what ianto would say.

it's the same day  
but a different time  
and jack is stuck.

stuck in his ways  
stuck in his age  
stuck in this life  
stuck. stuck. stuck.

it's over, and the good guys won.

the bad guys are bad  
and the good guys are too  
but at least the kids are okay.

'decorum est' - it is fitting  
that a man jack's age  
would fall for someone his opposite.  
ianto jones, aged 25.  
cause of death: torchwood.

he knew this day would come.

even when he was lost in ianto  
the many facets of his personality  
(and admittedly, his body)  
but never thought  
it would be so soon.

it's not love; it can't be. he wouldn't allow it.  
love ends in death and heartbreak -  
well. maybe it was love, after all.  
both dulce et decorum.

sed dulcius*  
that he should realize that now.

* * *

_A/N: *'Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori' - it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country, *'sed dulcius' - but sweeter._


	8. A Day In The Life

_A/N: I love Owen. I come across as this huge Ianto fan (and rightly so, I love him), but Owen was always my favourite. No real spoilers, mainly series one. There's Owen/Katie, Owen/Diane, Owen/Tosh (slightly) and implied Owen/Jack, which I thought worked because of the way he acted when Jack came back in series one. The sun is shining at the moment, which is nice, so I figured I'd give you guys a new poem. Enjoy. :)  
_

* * *

a day in the life.

his smile  
- slow, silent -  
catches the light,  
glancing rainbows  
off against the walls.  
they clash in silent conflict.  
it could be in his mind, of course.

he wants him so badly he can hardly breathe.

diamonds glitter  
in the haze of his memory  
he remembers  
can want equate to hate?

he supposes everyone wants jack, really.  
even now, it stirs in the pit of his stomach.

he misses her. god, he misses her.  
misses her light, misses that simple life.  
katie - only woman he ever loved. will love. (?)

even diane pales in comparison;  
her dark hair is too dark, she is too dark;  
he longs for the simplicity of katie,  
even as tosh gets more beautiful  
as the days go by.

he remembers punching jack, once.  
and he remembers the unsettling calm he felt.

that image in his mind is better than  
meditation -  
or medication -  
ever will be.

he wants. he hates. and he can never have.  
and that is a day in the life of owen harper, m.d.


	9. Best

_A/N: Well, here's another one. :) Completely in canon with CoE, which is a change for me, considering my biggest fic is a CoE fix-it. I felt like doing something different, because I don't actually dislike Gwen - sure, sometimes she's a trial, but she's got good points too. From Jack's perspective, and this is if he returned fairly promptly from his space-adventure. Pretty far in their future though, and Torchwood HASN'T fallen. I hope you enjoy it.  
_

* * *

it is summer,  
so her blood is dry  
by the time he finds her.

they all fall, in the end.  
she lasted longer than all the rest -  
20 years in full service,  
from 29 to 49.

gwen cooper  
had a child at 32  
that child is now 18.  
ianto cooper-williams, he's called.

jack smiles at the name.

his heart breaks when he looks at gwen now.  
that once-young face now wrinkled at the edges.  
he's aged too, in those 20 years.  
maybe about a year's worth.

they never get funerals,  
torchwood staff, that is.  
he broke the rules with tosh  
and he'll break them again for gwen.

though, he doubts any torchwood staff  
lived to almost-50.

rhys understands,  
his face is wrinkled, too.  
about 10 years past, he joined up -  
older than they'd ever usually take -  
and jack's sure, looking at ianto's obstinate face  
that their kid will too.

stubborn. just like his namesake.

rhys' face isn't sad.  
just looks like closure.  
he asks what do we do now?  
and jack shakes his head.

let's get her home.  
she's the last of the best goddamn team i ever had.


End file.
